The Power Of
by c0ntxgious
Summary: Short Barson moments in sequential order, the first of which takes place after "Community Policing." Eventual pairing. {"...and all of a sudden, he wanted Olivia Benson in a new way."}
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, all creds to Dick Wolf**

 **AN: So this story is just going to be a collection of Barson one-shots. I'm not sure where it's going or if it will end up connecting the chapters at all, but for now it's just one-shots. I tried to keep it in-character. Haven't written an SVU story since I was a shitty little writer in middle school ahaha so let's hope this isn't too bad.**

 *****First chapter set after "Community Policing."**

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"Olivia," a familiar voice shouted from behind her as she marched down the steps of the courthouse. She was _not_ in the mood to hear whatever Barba had to say right now, so she continued to walk away, ignoring him completely.

"Liv, prosecution was right here," he said.

Impulsively, she spun around. "Prosecution? You mean you. No, you weren't, Barba, and you know you weren't. You did what you thought would please the public; you cared more about being politically correct than you did about making the _morally_ right decision."

"My 'decision' had nothing to do with politics. I was commissioned to prosecute the case, and so I did. I don't work for you, don't forget that-"

"Oh believe me, I know you're not working for me. A member of SVU would never throw cops under the bus for doing their job," she spat, her voice lowering and lips parting as they did when she was especially annoyed.

His sharp features focused on her intensely, his eyes flitting back and forth in contact with hers. His hurt at her remark showed visibly on his face, even as he tried not to let it. He stepped closer to her, thinking of what to say, but he didn't get the chance, as she opened her mouth again.

"You know, I get that you were in a difficult position, Counselor. But you grilled me on the stand, made it personal, asked if I would have done the same thing…You crossed a line," she said.

"I didn't cross a line. I used you for the prosecution, that's what you're for," he blurted.

Olivia's eyebrows raised as she gave a clear look of passionate anger, now insulted far more than before. "Ah. Got it," she said, flipping back around and finishing her descent down the courthouse steps. Barba went after her and grabbed her arm, only for her to violently pull away from him and continue her departure.

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At her apartment, Olivia opened a bottle of wine, opting to drink straight from the bottle so she could keep track of how much she drunk and also from the sheer laziness of not wanting to find a wine glass. Noah was asleep for the night and while she'd never get drunk with a child she was responsible for, she did want to at least unwind. She sat on her couch thinking for countless hours, until some point late in the night. Her mind couldn't shut down and give her the bliss of sleep. She found herself unable to think about anything other than the case; every unfortunate detail. The whole ordeal was bad. Nobody had deserved to die, and nobody had deserved prison for a likely ten-plus years. It sickened her that as hard as she worked, people's lives were over. She knew that in contrast, she saved and gave justice to many, but that wasn't what it was about for her. It was about the fact that every life was as valuable as her own, and every time one was lost, it was as big of a deal as every life she had saved combined. Every time someone died, something about the world was altered, and the lives of everyone who knew that person were tainted with grief and sorrow. A death was never anything to take lightly, and imprisonment for the undeserving was just as bad.

She used to blame herself for everything, but she stopped at some point and started to realize that every bad thing that happened wasn't her fault and couldn't be prevented by her. But it was almost as if not blaming herself and having learned just to accept that bad things happened for absolutely no reason other than the mere concept that life basically sucked ended up being worse than blaming herself. At least when she used to blame herself for everything, she could just sit and feel bad about herself and be angry with herself and her own incompetence. But once she had the realization that she didn't deserve the blame, it raised the constant whirlwind of thoughts which she now lived with every second; a never-ending tree of questions which branched into other questions and forced her thoughts to be centered around existential unfairness and the ways of the world and why things were the way they were.

To further enhance her bitter mood, rain started pouring, drizzling down her glass window from which the only light source in her house was coming; the city lights illuminated a circular patch of area where she was sitting on her couch, and everything else around her was dark. The atmosphere made her feel more upset, but she was also somehow a little proud of herself for sitting in her apartment in the dark. For a long while after her encounter with Lewis, she was too paranoid to do much. She only took baths because every time she took a shower, she became worried that someone was in her apartment but she was unable to hear them over the water. She slept with her gun under her pillow—a dangerous and stupid habit. Now, sitting in the dark alone, she wondered if the reason she wasn't scared was because she'd seen too many monsters lately to be concerned about something lurking in her apartment.

However, as if her body were to protest, she jumped out of her skin when a knock at the door jarred her from her thoughts. It should have been obvious, but Olivia was genuinely surprised when she saw Barba standing in her doorway, hair damp from the rain which undoubtedly made its way around his umbrella in this hurricane-like storm. She supposed that she was shocked because Barba didn't just show up at her apartment at—she checked her watch—one in the morning. He was casually dressed, a sight Olivia wasn't used to but had seen before, in black sweats, a t-shirt, and a windbreaker. His facial expression was unreadable, perhaps a mixture of fatigue, contempt, and maybe a slight bit of guilt. He held up a bottle of wine to which she lifted up her hand and revealed her own bottle which she'd now drunk half of; she was a heavyweight with alcohol.

"Anymore and I'll be drunk with my child asleep," she said, lying as she knew that she could drink the rest of the bottle and some of his and not get drunk.

"You don't have to take it literally," he replied, his face downcast and his eyes peering at her from the depths of the shadows his forehead cast.

She pursed her lips, staring at him. "A peace offering? Not this time, Counselor. You're the last person I want to see right now. Go talk it out and relieve your conscience with someone else."

"You don't know everything that happened. Come on, Liv. Don't push me back into the rain," he said, his mouth upturned just slightly.

Olivia really didn't want to see him; she hadn't been just throwing him a cold front. But she would be awake for undoubtedly several more hours into the night, and her mind would only feel further guilted if she let him leave when he'd, for once, made the effort to come out to her apartment in the middle of a rainy night to repair things with her. Reluctantly, she stepped aside, and Barba walked in and they both collapsed on the couch after he awkwardly set his bottle of wine on her counter.

"Why'd you come out here in the middle of the night?" Olivia asked, her voice cold. It was more of a statement than a question.

"You know why. I was a dick earlier. It…came out wrong," he said.

"What part? The part where you blatantly pushed me on the stand, the part where you made it personal by asking if I would have done the same thing, or the part where you said the only thing I'm here for is to be _used_ for the prosecution's benefit?" she barked at him, nearly causing him to flinch.

He gave her a disapproving, 'don't-bully-me' look. "The last one. That's not what I meant-"

"Then what did you mean?" she interrogated.

He readjusted himself on her couch, turning towards her. "I just meant that…You give me cases and I prosecute them, and you help me to pursue the cases by providing testimony. So typically, you are a benefit for the prosecution. I didn't mean that that's the _only_ thing you're good for," he said, making stern eye contact with her.

"Well, I didn't want to be a benefit for the prosecution this time. I didn't agree with this, Barba, and I just…I get this from a professional standpoint, but I guess I just thought that…"

"Thought what, Liv?" he said, staring at her.

She shook her head. "Nothing, never mind," she said.

He grabbed her half-drunk bottle of wine off the coffee table and consumed some of it himself. "Finish, or we're not going to work this out," he said matter-of-factly.

Olivia felt pissed nevertheless, but a part of her felt fond towards him because he was making such an immense effort to 'work this out.' He wasn't typically one to care what others thought of what he did, and the fact that he was here trying to fix everything showed that a part of him must have cared about her to some degree, so she felt encouraged to tell him what she was thinking.

"I just thought that you would value _me_ enough not to go against me to please the public. We're not friends, all right; we work together, I get that. And the job comes first. But you picked the side of the public over the side of the cops you work with and know," she said.

Barba bowed his head a little bit and gave a slight nod, running his thumb over the top of the bottle of wine in his hand before looking back up at her. "If it was you, I wouldn't have prosecuted. Because I do know you. But I didn't know them, and I didn't choose the public. I chose what I thought was right, can you trust that? I thought those cops overkilled, I thought that as long as they didn't see a gun, they shouldn't have fired, especially not more than once. If it had been you, I still would have thought you were wrong, I just wouldn't have prosecuted because I couldn't do that to you. But that's just the thing—you wouldn't have done that, and I know you wouldn't have," he explained.

For once, she found herself beginning to understand a little better. She disagreed with him from a moral standpoint, but she finally realized that he hadn't really chosen whatever was going to get him liked the best; he had chosen what he thought was right, and that was something she could respect, even if she thought he was wrong.

"I've been a detective for 17 years, though," she said.

"And even in your early years, you didn't make a decision like that," he said, showing that he'd clearly done his homework on her.

"As for manslaughter one," he continued, "I didn't want that. I didn't, Liv. The jury came up with that, and I tried to talk them out of it, but there were too many of them who wanted higher charges. It was out of my hands at that point. I just carried out what they would have done with any prosecutor," he finished.

She stared at him for a long moment, seemingly defeated. She took the bottle of wine from him, placing her hand over his for a brief moment before he let go and she took a swig. The physical contact felt like a moment of warm passion even though it was such a subtle touch, mostly because they had been fighting and cold towards each other and that touch ignited the feeling in both of them that reminded them that they were better friends than they admitted to being.

"I still don't think your prosecution was in the right, but I can understand," she said to him.

Barba nodded in response, a small smile on his face that he was obviously trying not to let show but failing miserably at. After a moment of awkward silence, Olivia tugged at his jacket lightly, a chuckle escaping her lips.

"You want me to put this in the dryer?" she asked.

He complied gratefully, pulling it off and handing it to her as she stood up.

"So we're really not friends?" he called out as she left towards the laundry room. "Last time I checked with you, we were gonna be eighty-five together!"

Approaching him again and sitting down, a look of amusement spread across her face. "I thought I drove you a little crazy, Counselor," she replied.

"Only in the best way."

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 **AN: Please leave a review if you enjoyed this! I have another chapter idea in the works that I'll post soon, granted that anyone reads/likes this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: This chapter is a bit short, sorry! Sorry the updates will be a bit slow for a little while; this is finals week and I have way too many exams plus work is stressful so I'll update as much as I can!**

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"How about this? How about you drop the felony rape charge and bring it down to sexual assault and my client will refrain from suing for court-ordered visitation," the defense attorney said, facing down Olivia and Barba in the interrogation room.

Derril Jackson, a monster of a man who had raped Lauren Hayes not once, but twice, and impregnated her, was attempting to negotiate a deal. Olivia looked unusually frustrated and furious, Barba noted, but attributed it simply to exhaustion.

"I'll talk to Lauren and see how she feels about that," Olivia said, bowing her head in resignation. Barba's head snapped in her direction, not even believing the words coming out of her mouth. Where was her fight? Was she really willing to let this go to sexual assault? This was not just unlike her in the way that was just unusual; this was uncharacteristic in the way that indicated there had to be a reason she was giving up that easily.

"Lieutenant Benson, I'd like to remind you that _I_ am the one with the power to make legal decisions," he said, glancing at her and then turning back to Derril. "Sexual assault? Not going to happen. I'll take you for felony rape and drop the stalking charges, that's the best I'll offer."

"As long as the rape charge stands, my client will be suing for visitation of his child," the lawyer repeated boldly, clicking her pen and staring at Barba head-on.

"Child visitation is none of my business nor my concern. Not worth dropping the charges your client will not only inevitably be convicted of, but will also most likely be the cause of why he will _not_ win a civil suit for visitation of the child. See you in court," Barba said, standing up dismissively and starting towards the door. He was shocked when Olivia stayed seated, staring at the criminal before her, practically steaming.

He opened the door and stared back at her. "Lieutenant Benson, after you," he said, holding the door open. She didn't respond once again. "Olivia," he said in a last-ditch effort to get her attention, even though it was unprofessional to call her by her first name in front of another lawyer.

Finally, she stood up, glaring at Derril a moment longer as she left the room. Once finally outside, Barba stepped directly in front of her, ignoring Rollins and Fin, who were also in the room.

"You were ready to take that deal," he stated, looking at her with an expression which was a mixture of confusion, frustration, and something softer. "Not that it was your decision. Want to tell me what you've got up your sleeve?"

She dismissed him, turning instead back to the window and staring ahead at Derril. Refusing to accept anything less than an explicit answer, Barba stepped up to the window as well, but he faced her rather than the glass.

"Liv, it looks bad when we aren't on the same page," he tried again. She finally turned back to him, their faces now inches apart.

"He's going to fight for as much custodial power as he can get," she said. "That could have been avoided with a deal."

Barba's brows furrowed and he took a small step back. "You mean to tell me you want to let him off on sexual assault so he doesn't _attempt_ to get custodial rights? Even if he somehow managed to get visitation…he'll be in prison. The kid will visit him there with the safety of a guard and his mother."

"No child deserves to have to know their father if they're the product of his crime," Olivia said, her eyes glazing over.

Barba had gotten to a point where he could realize when Olivia was extremely upset and when she was just really angry. When she was angry, he'd usually see a bitter little half-smile (even though a smile was the opposite of what she was feeling). But when she was really upset, her face contorted to one of pure disgust. That was her expression now, except this time, it was even further riddled with pain—he wasn't sure he'd seen her looking this terrorized since the Lewis trial. Still, he was angered at her idea of just rolling over and letting this Derril guy walk all over the police department and himself. The most valuable thing he'd learned from her was to care more than that.

"The child isn't our business. Justice for Lauren is. Whatever happens with custody of the child after Derril's indictment is out of my hands, but I'm doing my job and taking him down for rape," he said.

Olivia clenched her teeth, her jaw moving visibly. "Yeah, you're right. I forgot that you care more about the case looking good than being ethical," she retorted, pushing past him and departing the room.

Barba was left in confusion, staring after her for a moment before turning to Rollins and Fin. He saw both of their faces form into what was primarily the awkward I-know-something-you-don't look.

"Somebody want to tell me what's going on with her? She's off. Way off," he said, seriousness splayed across his face.

They both stayed silent for a long moment. Rollins looked like she was going to say something, but then shut her mouth and looked back away from him.

"This…kind of hits close to home for Olivia," Fin said.

Barba gave a slight shake of his head, his hand out to the side in a gesture saying he still didn't understand. Fin and Rollins shuffled out of the room quickly, making it clear that they would say no more out of respect for their lieutenant. He got a horrible feeling in his gut after seeing their faces. He knew that something was wrong here, and he was genuinely concerned for Olivia, not only the case, although he was a little annoyed at how unprofessional they'd come across as in the interrogation room with their differing views on the case. Pushing that aside, he headed out of the interrogation room and walked out into the precinct and down the hall until he found her heading toward the exit.

"Olivia," he called from behind her. He walked faster until he was by her side, and when she refused to slow down, he stepped in front of her. She stopped abruptly, a look of annoyance spread across her face.

"Let's go get a drink," he suggested. He knew she would say no initially, so he silently gave her a pleading look with his eyes. She never replied, but she followed him to the bar.

"So. Clearly I hit a nerve today and I need to know what it is," Barba said after taking a sip of his scotch. He moved his gaze from his drink over to her, turning his body towards her.

She gave a slight shake of her head, taking a long sip of her drink to avoid talking for a minute. He kept his eyes trained on her to enforce the idea that he was not going to give this one up. She finally glanced at him and then looked back at her drink, getting ready to spill.

"Okay," she started, resignation etching across her features. "I think the child should be something we're concerned about because I know what it is to be the product of rape and be raised by a mother that doesn't want you and to be a living, breathing reminder of the worst thing that ever happened to her. I think the only thing that could make that situation worse would be to have to know the guy who did it all," she said bluntly, now looking at him straightforwardly.

It took him a moment to process, but after he silently let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his expression transformed into one first of grave, stilled shock and then sadness and overwhelming guilt. It was his turn to look away from her, this time in shame. He'd known very little about her past. In fact, after hearing her admission, the thought crossed his mind that he really knew very little about her in general, which was somewhat upsetting because he had a curiosity that made him want to know everything.

"I'm sorry for pushing that," he said. "That why you joined SVU?"

She nodded, stirring her drink pointlessly.

"How come you've never told me this?" he questioned.

"It's not something I'm proud of or _want_ to talk about. I have the DNA of a rapist," she replied.

A long pause followed as Barba tried to think of something he could say but came up with nothing he thought could be comforting in any way.

Finally, he spoke. "He must have been hot. You really don't look like your mother," he said with a slightly humored smile on his face; he'd seen photos of Serena. He sucked in a breath. "Wow, that was a fucked up thing to say."

Olivia actually laughed. She never would have believed that there would be a day on which a smile would grace her face while she spoke of her father.

"But…on a more serious note, DNA is far from a defining factor. You didn't have to dedicate your life to justice for women like your mother so you could prove that, even though I think most people would agree the city couldn't survive without you," he said.

The smile stayed on her face, but fell a little bit as a more serious expression took over. "Or you," she said, glancing at him. A moment of silence took over before Barba spoke again.

"Liv, Derril will _not_ get custody nor visitation," he said. He glanced at her and, seeing her unchanging expression, placed a hand over hers. "He will never see that child unless Lauren or the child decide differently. I promise."

Promises weren't something he took lightly.

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 **AN: so sorry if this is slow-moving, I'm just trying to let it be realistic and a burner. Please leave me some reviews, I really appreciate those of you that left some last time! Thanks! xx Ali**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: This chapter is very short, and I had another one similar to it (while also a bit contradicting) so I decided to upload two chapters at once. This one, and chapter four, are just two really short little peeks into Barba's thoughts.**

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To say she was always on his mind was a bit of an overstatement, but he could see himself approaching that point more and more by the day. Everything she did, every word she spoke to him, built him up and invigorated him with strength and passion, and a sliver of something else—sexual arousal, perhaps, but he'd been mostly ignoring it. It wasn't pertinent, and it happened rarely. But she'd transformed him completely; he no longer only cared about his closure rate. He felt connected to every case he took to court and every victim he met. In a way, he knew this was good. He knew it was a positive thing to have his humanity expanded and to be more personable, more caring. But mostly, he was bitter about this change in himself. It made everything harder. He worried every night about the aftermath of every decision he made, every case that was closed. So many times, all decisions felt like the wrong ones, and so many times, he felt like he'd lost. Even if the case was won, the punishment wouldn't feel just. He'd never questioned himself before working with SVU, before working with _her_. He'd been confident in himself, in that he knew what he was doing and he felt that he always maximized justice when he could. He'd felt that when he hadn't taken cases, or when he'd lost them, nobody else could have done better and it was simply a shitty part of life. Now, he blamed himself. Now, every case ate him alive. Now, he lacked sleep, appetite, positivity, and his confidence hit an all-time low. Now, the only thing that kept him sane were her tiny, seemingly-meaningless words of encouragement here and there. They were likely nothing to her, but everything to him. Every time she laid a hand on his shoulder, every time she gave him a positive look, every time she breathed a sigh of relief when he scored something or agreed to take a case, it all helped him to push forward and ignore his sleep deprivation, logic, and frustration. And all he thought about at work, most of the time, was whether or not he was going to disappoint her. He tried to be objective, to push her to go further and get more so that he would have the best case possible, mostly just so he could close it and not disappoint her further or himself or the victims. But if she really came to him with a case that she insisted he take and she had no hard evidence and she never had any advancements if he asked her to look further, he knew he would still take the case and he would likely lose, humiliate himself, damage his closure rate, and be a laughing stock, but he would do it for her. He would take any case she needed him to take, and he would do his best and go down with the toughest fight he could give, for her. It was not really just for her, but also for the victims she represented. He would do it for only her too though. It wasn't always this way; he used to be serious when he said he wouldn't take a case to court, but that had slowly transformed into a bluff he used to strengthen the cases. Her chocolate doe eyes alight with warmth, her glow when she saw justice served, the steam emanating from what was obviously her soul when there was an injustice—it ignited a spark in him that made him a better ADA than he could have ever been without her. It did the same thing for him that it did for so many victims: inspired him and pushed him to do better. It made him work with not only his brain, but also his heart. That was the power of Olivia Benson in the eyes of Rafael Barba.


	4. Chapter 4

That time when she grabbed his upper arms, both at the same time, and looked deeply into his eyes, slightly bending down to make sure he looked back at her. When he looked back at her, and she assured him that taking the case hadn't been a mistake, he was doing good, and she was grateful for his effort.

The time when she was being harassed by the press and he'd had the bravery to press his hand up to the small of her back, letting it linger there as he walked her all the way down the hall and out a back door where she couldn't be bothered.

The time she was fighting with him about taking a plea bargain and she cornered him against a file cabinet and got so close to him, he could feel her body heat and he wanted nothing more than to see if she tasted the way she so pleasurably smelled, and if she would enjoy him too, or if she was too consumed by her anger to experience the same arousal, the same fire in her loins, as he did.

The time they were working on a case late at night, going over every detail in preparation for her testimony the following day, and he was suddenly overcome with an unusual fondness which gave him the overwhelming desire to be close to her, to touch her physically, to feel his body against hers. And when she repeatedly said, "Counselor," attempting to get his attention, and when he responded only the second time, and his cheeks flooded with redness.

The time he was at the bar having a drink with the whole cavalry, and everyone left except the two of them. When the desire was too much, and he let himself get too close to her, wanting to develop this further, wanting to see how much he could get away with. When he moved over just enough that even a slight movement from her in his direction would have her thigh against his, her elbow against his. When she did move, just a slight, subtle bit, only enough to confirm that she enjoyed the physical contact too. Or, less preferred of the two, she simply moved at random and ended up closer to him. When, after many long minutes of fiery arousal flushing through him, he felt incredibly cold and sexually frustrated when she left his side and went home.

The time when he finally noticed that not only he, but she as well, now ensured that during every conversation, they were standing only inches apart, and frequently were bumping sides.

The time when he found himself thinking of all of these instances in the middle of the night, wanting desperately to feel the thick heat that flowed through his body when they touched, and he had the realization that these thoughts were consuming him, and he all of a sudden wanted Olivia Benson in a new way.

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 **AN: Thanks for reading, and as usual, please review! I really appreciate reviews, they motivate me a lot. Sorry these two little chapters were uneventful. I hope I made up for that by posting two at once. I have some fun stuff coming soon, the next chapter is written already and I like it, I think it's really in-character, so I'll be excited to post that. Have a good day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: This wasn't originally supposed to be the next chapter, but I added it in. Also I now declare that these are not one-shots, but a loosely connected story in sequential order. By the way I was honestly drunk when I wrote this so let's hope it's not too wack.**

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She just needed a minute to collect herself. That's all she thought was going to happen when she left the courtroom, pushing past everyone. The trial hadn't been too personal for her, but it was simply horrific and terrified her. The torture, the abuse she heard of. She supposed that to a degree it was personal, reminding her admittedly of what she'd gone through with Lewis. But mostly, it just disgusted her and for a brief moment, her heart skipped a beat and she couldn't breathe properly, and she just needed to be alone before congratulating everyone on the verdict, which was guilty on all counts except one.

So she snaked her way through the crowded courtroom and found a dark, empty conference room which she went into and immediately collapsed onto a small couch. It was black aside from the small slits in between the blinds, allowing for a few rays of light to stab through. She initially thought this was only a breather, just a quick time to process everything, but then it turned into a cry session. She cursed at herself for being weak enough to sit down and cry after a case when she'd worked so many, but nevertheless found her body trembling with uncontrollable sobs. After a few moments, the sobs eased but silent tears continued to slide down her face. She placed both hands over her forehead, cradling it as her elbows rested on her knees, balancing her weight as she leaned forward.

She wasn't sure how he found her. Perhaps he'd seen her and followed. But suddenly the light was on and she was exposed, crying, and all she could do was be was pissed. She glanced at Barba and then let out a bitter chuckle-scoff that was simultaneously a groan at his presence. She thought of telling him she needed space, but secretly she somewhat craved whatever he might say that could possibly make her feel a little better.

He wasn't that impressive, though. Words were something he seemed not to have much of as his face tensed and he moved from the doorway, sitting down beside her. He stared at her for a short moment and then looked forward, elbows on knees as hers were. Before saying anything, his hand found its way to her back, attempting to be comforting. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm…sorry," he said.

Olivia's eyes flitted around and then suddenly stopped as the words came out of his mouth. She looked at him slowly, a sad smile crossing her face.

"It's not about the verdict, Barba. This was a victory. Sometimes you just need a breather," she said.

He nodded, biting his lip a little. "You want me to go?"

She looked down at her hands. "It's okay."

"If you think I'm going to think anything of this-"

"I don't," she interrupted.

He gave a curt nod, turning away from her. "Honestly," he said, "I don't know how you do it without needing 'breathers' every time."

"You see as much as I do," she pointed out.

"Actually, that's…something I wanted to talk to you about. I've decided-I'm considering..." he said, his voice trailing off for a moment. He found his voice with difficulty. "No longer working with SVU."

Olivia did a double take, staring at him. " _What?_ " was all she could utter.

"I don't want to see it anymore. I don't want it to be my responsibility. I've failed so many times," he said. "I don't want to be the one responsible for the times that a rapist or a killer walks free and kills or rapes someone else. Maybe an elderly woman, maybe a five-year-old child. Every time it happens, it's my fault now. I'm sick of it being my fault," he said, emotion beginning to seep into his voice. He tried to mask his sadness with a look of anger and frustration, but Olivia could see through it.

She stared at him for a long moment and then nodded and looked away, deciding what to say. When she turned back, empowerment was written across her face. "Barba, it's never your fault. You," she lectured, turning towards him and resting a hand on his knee only briefly. "Are one of the best. If you lose a case, anyone's going to lose it. You've seen me fall apart and blame myself for things that were out of my control and you've advised me countless times to stop blaming myself, and now you're doing the same thing," she said, pausing. She made sure they maintained eye contact, hoping to reach him fully. "We both know that neither of us like fighting with each other, but you constantly get in my crosshairs when you ask more of me, when you push me to bring you something better, and that alone proves that you're not at fault for anything. You do the best you can and if we'd gone to court any of the dozens of times I've brought you cases that you refused to take, you'd have that many more losses on your hands. If you want to stop working with SVU because you can't handle it, I'll respect that. It's tough. But if you want to dissociate because of self-blame, make sure you say bye to me for good."

Barba maintained eye contact with her for a long moment, a moment which seemed like an hour. He felt that those eyes, that fiery passion he saw in them and her desperation for him to stay, was a vision which would resonate with him forever. He stood up suddenly, opening the door. She followed suit.

"Maybe a vacation is a better idea," he said simply, walking out the door with renewed confidence.

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 **AN: as always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks xx c0ntxgious**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Sorry for taking so long to update! I worked a whopping 65 hours last week while also studying for (and managing to make a 98 on) my history final. The good thing is that with college you get winter break for a full month, the bad thing is I'll be working most of that break so updates might be a bit scarce. Anyway, I wrote this chapter a long while ago and I think it is a really good one; I think I characterized it well. Hope you enjoy!**

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The pain was intense, but short-lived as the two bullets struck him faster than he could realize they had left the defendant's gun, and ripped through his skin and embedded themselves in his shoulder. It took him a moment before he collapsed, first stumbling backward and gripping the courtroom's seating rails and then slowly slumping down to the floor, resting his back against them. The pain was there, but not the same as it had been when the bullets first hit him. It was dull now, mostly because he couldn't focus on it well. His vision was foggy, vignetted in the corners, but he saw a blur of people, the colors blending together in a sea of indecipherable images, moving too quickly for him to comprehend well with his now-impaired state of mind. He did, however, notice when the bullets stopped piercing the air and all noise was now people, not weapons. People screaming, crying, running and tripping over each other, likely to escape. He tried to move but he wasn't sure if he really did. He knew that if he had, he hadn't gotten anywhere. He had no power to go anywhere. He felt scared for the first time, but not in a realistic kind of fearful way. He was scared in a way that he knew a lot was going on that he couldn't help, and he was helpless, but he couldn't feel any real panic because he was so dazed and everything was so confusing at the moment.

But he felt alert when he saw Olivia's face come into his view, and then take up his entire view, becoming everything he saw and the only thing he wanted to see. Her eyes were glazed over but her face was dry of tears, thankfully, and her lips were parted as she focused on not looking overly concerned, not wanting to scare him. He hoped he wouldn't die. He hoped he could be okay so he could have the chance to have more time with her, more time to be the person she made him rather than the person he once was. In that moment, with her being the only thing he could see, he wanted nothing other than to stay with her. She sat against the courtroom benches beside him, her right arm snaking behind his back and resting on his hip while the left pressed some kind of material around his bullet wounds. His dull pain returned to its previously sharp feeling as she applied pressure.

"Rafael, you're going to be fine. I promise you're going to be fine," she said, her eyes meeting his and causing his mind to abandon his concern about his wound for a brief moment. She was reassuring herself more than she was reassuring him.

"Rafael? I…really must be dying," he managed to croak out between winces. He wasn't sure where his humor came from; he hadn't thought his mind was sufficiently intact to make a joke. He wondered for a minute if he'd even said what he thought he said, or if he was just too confused to even know what words came from his mouth.

But Olivia smiled at him, a small smirk that was genuine but nevertheless overrun with worry.

" _Barba._ Just stay with me, okay? Don't close your eyes," she said.

He nodded, and he felt that he could, in fact, stay with her. Before she'd wrapped her arms around him and assured him of his good fortunes, he'd wondered if this was really the end. But looking up at her, he felt reconnected to the world, and the haze in his vision lessened. He knew he would be fine because he knew he could hang on for her. He knew as long as she was there, he could focus on her, not death.

He trembled a slight bit, involuntarily. She attempted to comfort him, tightening her grip on his lower hip. He noticed for the first time that the material around his wound was her coat. He used her knee and thigh for stability, squeezing her dress slacks between his fingers. They maintained eye contact for a long while and it seemed like he was in her embrace for an hour by the time the ambulance arrived, even though it had only been a few minutes.

"Here!" she yelled, the paramedics rapidly approaching.

Then she was lost from him for a brief moment as he was placed on a stretcher and all he saw were the faces of men in medical uniforms, the overwhelming brightness of the sun hitting him once they exited the courtroom, and finally the top of an emergency vehicle. But as soon as the disappointment at not seeing her began to set in, it quickly subsided as she reappeared, riding alongside him in the ambulance, his forearm in her grip.

* * *

As the door swung open, Rafael expected to see Olivia, but it was instead his mother. He was very glad to see her, and she looked beyond happy to see him. Tears were rimmed around her eyes, her hair was a wreck, and tissues were in her hands. He gave her the best bright smile he could manage. He still felt like shit. But he was alive and okay, and the pain would subside with time, which he could bear.

" _Mamí,_ " he sighed, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his arms as she approached the hospital bed cautiously but eagerly.

"Rafi, you scared me to death. What happened? Benson told me the guy's dead. He didn't deserve to get off that easily," she said, wiping at her eyes.

"I don't know what happened, you'd have to ask Liv about that-"

"Liv?"

"Benson. Olivia Benson," he clarified.

"The doctor told me you lost too much blood, that you should have died! I don't want you in a court room ever again, do you understand me? You're finding a different job, this isn't going to work anymore, _no peudo perder a mi hijo,_ " she rambled, expressively throwing her arms around in a rampage.

Rafael shook his head, a somewhat amused grin crossing his face as he struggled to get her to make eye contact with him. " _Mamí,_ just be happy that I'm okay and leave it at that. I'm not quitting my job. I'm fine. This was just an accident, a rare accident. Do you know if anyone else was hurt?"

"Well, Benson had blood all over her shirt," Lucia said.

Barba's face returned to a serious expression, remembering her cradling his limp body, remembering that she was the reason he was still breathing.

"That was my blood," he said, giving his mom a reluctant, near-wincing look, hoping she wouldn't be too unnerved.

Lucia's face turned paper white and she grabbed the railing of her son's hospital bed to stabilize herself. "All of that was your blood?"

"I presume," he said.

"Rafi, how did you…" Lucia's voice trailed off, but Rafael knew what she wanted to ask. "I am forever in debt to God for this."

"No, you're in debt to Olivia. She knows how to operate in those situations. She saved me," he responded, knowing that he was withholding much more. She hadn't just "operated," she hadn't just physically helped him by keeping pressure on his wound. She'd been the reason he'd stayed conscious, refusing to let the darkness in the corners of his vision envelope him and take him away from the world. Her gentle words, her holding him as he bled, kept him from giving up.

"You probably want to see her now, then," Lucia said, giving him a tiny smile.

"Are you trying to get out of keeping me company any longer?" he interrogated, a smirk gracing his face.

She gave him a smile, leaning in and giving him a long hug, careful to avoid his shoulder. "Actually, I'm feeling nauseous. You didn't think you'd wake up in such great shape without any blood donations, did you?" she questioned, pulling up her sleeve to reveal a swatch of gauze which was presumably covering a needle puncture.

"Olivia donated too. That woman really is your savior today," she said. "I should get something for her."

Barba took in this new piece of information and sucked in a breath, giving his mom one more smile. He really was in debt now. "Thanks for the blood," he said. "You get home, get some rest, _te amo_. Call me later."

"I'll be back up here soon," she responded.

She gave him a final pat on the shoulder before walking slowly out of the hospital room.

For several minutes, Barba waited for Olivia to come in. He had so much to say, so much he wanted to get out of his system. He knew he would end up saying very little, as he always did. But he needed to see her, he needed to say _something_. A nurse came in and checked his vitals, updated him on his steadily improving health, and he even asked the nurse about her. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she appeared in the doorway of his room, looking at him for a moment before entering to make sure he was awake.

"Hey," she said simply, her voice soft and husky. She approached his bed and pulled a chair up close to him, taking a seat.

"All that waiting in the hall and you didn't have time to change out of my blood?" he asked, a humored look on his face.

A closed-mouthed smile played out across her face as she looked down at the shirt. Wearily, she unbuttoned and removed it until she was in a thick-shouldered tank top which was also tainted with a bit of blood, but not nearly as badly. He scolded himself for right now, of all times, noticing every curve and every bare section of her body that the top revealed.

"How are you feeling? Getting shot is always fun," she said, looking at him with great concern.

"Amazing, on top of the world," he said sarcastically. "Glad you're here instead of my mom, I was getting sick of pretending to not feel anything."

"Yeah, about your mom," Olivia started, and Barba immediately chuckled. "Want to tell me why she was all over me? I thought she was going to suffocate me with that hug."

Gradually, the smile faded off his face and he stared at her with a loss of composure, openly emotive. "You saved her son. What did you expect? She thinks you're God now," he said.

Olivia grinned. "I think that's laying it on a little thick-"

"Really? Because I don't think that's saying nearly enough," he uttered, his words shutting down any tone of humor she'd brought to the conversation and tumbling out with a rapidity that almost made him sound like he was furious at her for even trying to not take the credit for this. His tone was lawyer-style: dismissive, dominant, and made her feel that he meant it and she could not contradict him. She didn't try to debate it anymore, thankfully.

"Is anyone else hurt?" he asked, his lips parted and face in an expression of genuine concern.

"The bailiff is dead," she said. "Snapped neck. One member of the jury was shot but is stable, and three members on the benches were hit, none of them fatally."

He took in her words, processing for a moment and then turning his attention to the news story, covering the events of this morning, on his hospital room's TV.

"Hey, Barba," Olivia said, placing a gentle hand over his arm, causing his eyes to snap to hers. "Just because you're okay doesn't mean you're…okay," she said. "I've been hurt on the job before and my friends have been shot before. We all know it's not as simple as an injury. It messes with your head. You might not feel that way now, and I hope you never do. But I think you should stay with your mom or me for a little while once they release you," she said in her typical compassionate, victim-aiding voice.

"Staying with _Mamí_ would be hell right now, she wouldn't be able to focus on anything but me. When exactly are they discharging me?" he asked.

"They said it would be tomorrow," she replied.

"That soon?"

"You know hospitals. They're always trying to get rid of you," she responded, a bitter look on her face.

"I'll be fine alone. I haven't been victimized, Liv," he said.

She glanced down for a minute and then back up at him, nodding her head slightly. "Look, you're not a cop. You're not trained to take two bullets like it's nothing, not even cops are supposed to do that. You're not staying alone. If you don't want to be with your mother, you can stay with me. Amaro's stayed with me before during a rough patch, it's not like my doors aren't always open," she said.

He smiled genuinely, amusement tainting his face. "Because you haven't done enough already, giving me your blood and saving my life. Now you want to babysit me."

She shook her head in disagreement but found herself staring at him a minute later, brows furrowed.

"You scared me," she admitted.

Something in his expression immediately changed once he heard her words, and he now looked at her with fondness.

"Don't ever worry about me," he said.

Olivia looked away from him and then back at him. "The other ADAs-" she started but was interrupted.

"I've heard the stories. I take the risk because I want to—I'm not concerned about it. You can't be either, unless you want to side with my mother and tell me I should resign," he said.

She shook her head, smiling. "No, I'm not sure I can handle dealing with another new ADA. Besides, we're finally starting to not hate you," she joked.

Barba gave her a sideways look but didn't say anything. "So are we now oddly related since I have your blood pumping through my veins?"

Olivia winced, pulling back a little. "I certainly hope not," she said, not sure what she meant by that.

He wasn't sure either.

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 **AN: Please leave me some reviews! I was disappointed that I only got a couple on the last chapter. Thanks so much for reading! Merry Christmas/Christmas Eve btw! Maybe I'll publish a separate little Christmas one-shot tomorrow if I get the time to write something.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Sorry about the glitches, guys! FanFiction has had some weird glitches so I took down chapters 7 & 8 because they weren't posting right and reviews weren't showing and a bunch of stuff. So I'm reposting both chapters 7 and 8 today! And for those who haven't read them yet, I hope you enjoy & leave me some feedback! Thanks!**

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"Do you know how bad this looks?" Barba posed, staring at Olivia.

"What?" she asked innocently, opening the car door for him. He noticed this action.

"I can already see the headlines if this were to get out. Assistant District Attorney bunks with NYPD Lieutenant," he said, watching her intently as she focused on the road ahead.

"Who cares? Whatever it may _look_ like, it isn't. We have nothing to worry about. I already offered to let you out of this if you stayed with your mother," she reminded him.

"Liv, I need to be home. At my loft."

"And you will be, in about a week," she said dismissively. "Give it up, Barba."

"We both know I never give anything up," he said.

"You will this time. Besides, Noah's not going to bother you, I'm getting Lucy to keep him at her place every day and bring him home at night," she replied.

"I'm not _scared_ of Noah," Rafael commented, giving her a sideways glance. "And stop rearranging your life so you can babysit me."

She shook her head. "It's fine, Rafael. Believe me, I could use a break. I'll still visit him during the day; Lucy's apartment is on the way to the station."

"And there it is again. My first name. You sure the doctor cleared me, I'm not still on my deathbed?" he joked.

She chuckled. "'Liv' this, 'Liv' that, and I still have to call you by your last name? I don't even remember the last time you called me Benson."

"All right, fair point. But the second your kid calls me 'Raf,' I'm out."

"Deal. And you need to take a day to clear your head before you even start paperwork, but I knew you'd be bored out of your mind sitting at my apartment all day so I picked up files of cases that were overturned from the Rudnick conviction for you to go over while you're out of the office," Olivia said, pulling a strand of hair out of her face.

"How thoughtful of you," Barba commented bitterly, not ready to face the dozens of cases he would spend the next year or so having to work on. That bastard had really screwed them over. At least it would give him something to do to maintain some inkling of professionalism while staying at Olivia's apartment. Trying to contain his now-obvious sexual and emotional desires towards her was going to be fun now that he would be sharing living quarters with her. All he could do was try his best to strategically avoid physical contact and pray to get away from her as soon as possible—she was a guilty pleasure he had no business pursuing.

* * *

"Hannah, listen to me. This doesn't have to happen. What happened to you…I can't tell you that I could understand. But you aren't the only person who's dealt with this, who's survived…you're a survivor, Hannah. Please, sweetie, please let me just get you some help. I know so many people that will help you. This will get better. Just give it a chance to get better," Olivia said, holding her hands in the air expressively. She slowly approached the edge of the roof, attempting to make eye contact with the fourteen-year-old girl who trembled and sobbed, looking as though she would jump at any moment. Olivia reached her hand out, and Hannah turned around as if she were going to grab it. Relief began to flood through Olivia's body, but it was premature, as the girl retracted her hand in a sudden, jerked movement.

"No. I'm sorry. This will never end, I-I can't live this way. I'm sorry," she said, and then suddenly, the last thing to be seen was her long, jet black hair, flowing through the wind as she fell to her death.

Olivia couldn't look. She felt her breath hitch in her throat and her heart stopped momentarily. She blinked away the shock, turning around to face Fin, who was staring at her grimly, not of much help. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, attempting to recollect herself. Things like this happened; they had happened so many times in her career. She couldn't let this get to her. But no matter how much she reminded herself that she couldn't let it, it of course did, in fact, get to her. She'd lost a fourteen-year-old girl. Before the suicide took place, she'd shot a suspect who pulled a gun on her. The suspect had been holding Hannah captive as a sex slave, and SVU had found the slum where he had been keeping her. Olivia put the guy down and Hannah was freed when she ran up to the roof and committed suicide. It was shocking, really, because the girl was in no imminent danger any longer. The only conclusion Olivia could come up with for her reasoning behind killing herself was that the emotional damage of being a sex slave was too overpowering for her to see any kind of light at the end of the tunnel. All she could do was wonder if she could have done something differently, if she could have said something that would have prevented this. Fin approached her and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"She had her mind made up, Liv," he reassured her, as if reading her thoughts.

She made eye contact with him for a brief moment but then rushed out of his grip, pushing her way down the fire escape. She made a statement to the surrounding police officers that she didn't even think much about and then disappeared from the scene. She knew there was more she should do, but she couldn't focus and she knew that Fin had her back as far as the work side of the tragedy was concerned. He had a better ability to detach himself than she did. Right now, she just needed to see Noah, and perhaps Barba.

* * *

"Noah," Olivia said, sighing into her son's hair, careful not pull him too close to her bloody shirt. She didn't say much to him, not her usual "how's my sweet boy" talk. She couldn't feel any lightheartedness right now. She only wanted to hold him, feel this toddler that she would always protect in her arms. She just wanted to remind herself that the one she loved most in the world would never be taken from her, that she was in control of this one thing in her life. She was in control of Noah. He would always be okay. She had a grip on this moment, on him, on who he would become. She would always have him, no matter what.

She drove home, the toddler playing with his toys in the backseat but gradually showing more signs of sleepiness. When she got up to her apartment, she gently put him in his crib, already sleeping soundly. She watched him for a long moment, taking the time to enjoy his safety. Perhaps later tonight, she would take him from the crib and sleep with him so her feeling of protection could be further enforced.

When Olivia went into the living room, Barba was sitting near the coffee table, looking at a case file, deep in thought. He looked up abruptly, immediately focusing on her bloody clothes, wrecked hair, and slightly smeared mascara.

"One of those days?" he murmured.

Olivia couldn't find any words to give him a straightforward answer, so she instead just threw her hands in the air, waving off the question as if to say, "don't even ask." She made her way back to her room, feeling much better once she peeled off her filthy, blood-soaked clothes and climbed into the hot shower, attempting to rinse off her disgust at every foul thing that had occurred during the day. Something about the removal of her makeup or the smell of her shampoo reinvigorated her, making her truly feel a thousand times better by the time she padded out of the shower and changed into more comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt. Upon returning to the living room, she first made a stop in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, in case Barba was interested, and then collapsed on the couch next to him, way too close. She shut her eyes as she took a large gulp of wine, feeling it burn a slight bit as it slid down her throat which was, at the moment, sore, along with every other part of her being. She fell deeper into the couch, her head resting on the back and eyes meeting the ceiling.

"What happened?" Barba questioned, whipping shut his case file and turning towards her, decked out in sweats. Her wet hair met the side of his elbow, which was resting on the edge of the coach beside her.

She turned to look at him. "Fourteen-year-old girl, suicide by jumping."

"And the blood?"

"The guy who had kidnapped her," Olivia explained, turning back away and giving a slight shake of her head. "I tried to talk her down. I thought I had her. But then something clicked, and her mind was made up. I don't know what it was. I don't know how I could have stopped it. Maybe if I had just pulled her down," she said. "I should have just pulled her down," she repeated, as if the thought gained credibility once she had said it out loud. "Maybe she would have fallen but at least it would have been a chance. I should have known; I saw it—I saw the light go out of her eyes. I knew in the moment before she jumped that she was going to. I should have grabbed her, she was so close-"

Olivia stopped mid-sentence as Barba placed a hand on her shoulder blade, making careful eye contact with her. "Liv, stop. You know what path you're going down here, and you know it's not the right one. I've seen you do this too many times. Everything is not your fault."

He moved his hand back up to the edge of the couch, and was a little surprised when Olivia turned to look at him again, her cheek colliding with his hand. She buried her face into it and he felt her eyelashes gently tickle his palm.

"I know rationally that it's not," she responded. "But it doesn't stop me from wondering what could have happened if I'd done better."

She finally sat back up, pulling her face away. For a very brief moment, Barba's hand followed her movement as if it were glued to her cheek. He quickly took note of how this would look and dropped his hand back down.

"You did the best you could. It was her decision. She could have saved herself," he said.

She maintained gentle eye contact with him, not anymore reassured of herself, but appreciative of his effort.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Barba's eyes averted for a brief moment to his shoulder and then back to her. "I'm wondering if it's supposed to still feel this…intense," he admitted.

Concern flashed through Olivia's eyes and she slightly upturned her bottom lip. "Let me look at it, make sure it's not infected," she said.

He considered this for a moment, not initially willing to let her commit such a caring action but ultimately remembering that his health was a little more important than his desperation to contain his feelings for her. He stood up, Olivia following suit, and started to pull his functional arm out of his hoodie. Going into the light, Olivia helped him to pull the other side of the hoodie off, grabbing the loose side and gently pulling it over his head, then sliding it off of his other arm, careful to avoid the wound. Next, not even bothering to get a look of approval, she grabbed the hem of his t-shirt on the side of his injury and pulled it up to his shoulder, revealing his bare side but doing her best not to pay attention to it. She helped him to get his stiff arm through the arm hole, reaching under the shirt and gripping his elbow and forearm, guiding it until his arm was free, finally pulling the shirt over to reveal his bandaged shoulder. The fabric joined loosely at his neck as his other arm remained awkwardly in its sleeve.

"See, this is why you're staying with me for now. You can't even disrobe by yourself," Olivia teased, making eye contact for a short second before fidgeting gently with the edges of the bandage.

He gave her a tiny, thin-lipped smirk and watched her rather than looking at his own shoulder.

She tediously pulled back the bandage, watching his face to make sure she wasn't too rough. She placed her free hand on his bare chest right beside the bandage. Rafael knew that she was only steadying him so she could work, but for him, it felt like more. She finally had freed his shoulder of the bandage and was inspecting his wound.

"That hurt?" she asked.

"No, you're fine," he replied quickly. He finally turned his attention from her to his wound, but then found himself with his face dangerously close to hers, which was also up close, examining the damage. Frustratingly attempting not to shiver, he pulled his head back a tiny bit in an attempt to regain some composure.

"How's it looking?" he questioned.

"I hope this doesn't hurt," was her only response before he felt her fingers gently prod the area around the bullet holes. It did hurt a little bit, but not too badly.

"No infection. I was feeling it to see if it was feverish, which it isn't. There isn't much redness or anything like that. The pain is just pain, bullets aren't the most comfortable thing to deal with," she said.

Finally she pulled back, staring at her own hand on his chest for the shortest of moments before releasing him from her grip. Again, she helped him back into his t-shirt, and he decided against putting the hoodie back on.

Sitting back on the couch, she turned to him. "Hungry?"

"Starving," he responded.

She ordered Chinese food and they ate together, making small talk about things surprisingly more optimistic than work. This was the first time they ever had a reasonably long conversation about anything other than killers or rapists, and it was pleasant; Rafael began to feel like he was starting to know her as more than just the passionate, hardcore, and emotionally unstable detective he'd seen a lot of. It was nice seeing a side of her that was a little more relaxed, more carefree. An undeniably elated smile graced her face when she spoke of Noah, and Barba thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. At one point, he thought she noticed him staring at her, paying more attention to her face than what she was actually saying. He forced himself to focus harder and tried not to let himself recognize that he'd just been paying attention to her smile, to her flawless, slightly freckled skin which he was for the first time seeing without any makeup, to her seductive scent and shiny, rapidly-drying hair. Eventually, he forced himself to let the conversation float off into uninteresting territory so he could go to bed and get himself out of this situation. He had to stop wanting something he couldn't have. She was oblivious to him, she would never have these same feelings. Even if she did, their jobs prevented them from trying anything like that. Being with Olivia as anything other than colleagues and perhaps friends was a territory he simply couldn't step into—it was impossible. But that night as he laid in bed, he didn't fall asleep for about an hour, as physical and emotional desire swept through his body and mind.

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 **xx c0ntxgious**


	8. Chapter 8

While Rafael had gone to sleep with pleasant thoughts of Olivia dominating his mind, his body felt differently. The pain of his wound interrupted his sleep, and he woke up multiple times, propping his shoulder on a pillow, turning to his other side and back to his back, unable to get comfortable. His persistent attempts to go back to sleep while in pain only led to him having a replay of his getting shot. When he awoke again, he finally decided that he would not try to go to sleep again. He didn't want to live through getting shot once again, as he had a few moments ago. Perspiration matted little strands of his hair to his forehead and he felt a dizzying heat flush through him as he stood up from bed, feeling like total shit. He stumbled into the kitchen, looking around for his pain medicine. The medicine hardly would do anything, he knew, as he'd tried it multiple times to ease the pain and it did little to dull it. But it was better than nothing.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find his pills, unsure of where Olivia or he had put them. Despite his attempts to be quiet, Olivia was suddenly in his view, placing her hands gently on his own trembling ones and attempting to calm him down a bit.

"Hey, what's going on? Are you hurting? Let me find your medicine," she said, releasing him and digging through her cabinets. She pulled them out finally and took out a pill so he wouldn't have to fidget with the bottle, handing him the pill and a ginger ale from the fridge. He hesitated before taking it.

"These don't even work," he said roughly, a little more frustratedly than he intended to.

Olivia watched him with concern etched across her features, giving him a small nod. "Okay, well, do you want something stronger? I have some old pain meds, they might affect you in a different way, I don't want you to be alarmed if you feel weird," she said.

Rafael simply nodded, setting his medicine back down and taking the pill she handed him instead.

"Don't tell anyone that the lieutenant of SVU gave you old prescription medication," she said, attempting to lighten the mood a bit.

They were both quiet for a long moment as Olivia watched him, realization suddenly flashing through her eyes. "You had a nightmare," she commented.

He made eye contact with her for a brief moment as he propped himself up on the counter, leaning in and putting his weight on it. "I wouldn't call it that," he refuted.

Olivia's eyebrows furrowed and one corner of her mouth came up a bit in a sympathetic smile. "Maybe the medicine will ease your mind too," she said, putting a hand on his upper back for a moment as she led him out of the kitchen, walking with him back to the couch.

"I need to get out, leave the apartment tomorrow," he said, indicating that he was going a little stir crazy.

Olivia nodded, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "You don't need my permission," she reminded him. She was not _actually_ his babysitter, as much as he'd joked about it. This whole setup, him being at her apartment everyday when she returned home, having him there to check on constantly as she knew that getting shot was traumatic—it was all becoming too comfortable. She was enjoying it far too much, and she knew that it would be over soon, and she had to be okay with that. She couldn't let herself fall into this life as if it were the new normal. She had to remember that the only person she _really_ had when she returned home every day was Noah. She was okay with that, although she did find herself beginning to think more and more of Rafael lately and wonder if perhaps she would be happier if she had him to see every evening at home. But the thought was more than an overreach—it was ridiculous. She forced those thoughts out of her mind, reminding herself that she was content with Noah and only him.

"How are the overturned Rudnick cases coming along?" Olivia asked, glancing over at the files he'd left sitting on her side table.

"They're…coming. Slowly. You know, it's just a shit storm to meddle through, I'll be dealing with it for at least the next year," he said. "Longer than that if you don't let me go back to work soon."

"So stubborn," she commented, chuckling slightly.

"You know you don't _actually_ control when I go back to work, right?" he asked, a tinge of humor in his tone.

"Well…I have a gun and you're drugged and injured in my apartment," she joked back.

He shook his head. "Thanks for that new perspective," he started, about to make another witty remark, when suddenly things were spinning. "Woah, what the hell was in that…medication…" he slurred.

A small grin spread across Olivia's face as she watched him. "Are you having hallucinations? Your dosage was low, you shouldn't be seeing anything too crazy," she said.

He shook his head subtly. "No, not hallucinations, I'm just…" his voice trailed off as suddenly he laughed, greatly humored. He looked at her as though she were intentionally making him laugh. "Just, god, my head feels so heavy," he said, his head rolling over his shoulder and collapsing into the couch.

Olivia knew she should be getting back to bed soon, but watching him was way too fun. "Hey Barba," she said, about to take advantage of his impaired state. "Who's your favorite detective?" she posed.

He grinned at her knowingly. "Obviously it's Carisi."

She laughed, turning away from him. "Me too," she replied.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I also understand that some of you have been waiting for a new chapter and still haven't gotten one, so here's chapter 9 for those that have been waiting since like late December! Sorry about all the glitches, and I hope you enjoy this!**

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Returning to work had been far less pleasant than whatever fantasy Barba had worked up in his mind. Returning to his loft had been pretty relieving though. Staying with Olivia hadn't been difficult; he enjoyed time with her far more than he should. But they were far from comfortable around each other—they weren't a married couple. He was still very much consumed with sexual tension and attraction, and being around her all the time while unable to act on it was exhausting. He also felt a constant need to be tough, to be impressive, and he really felt like shit all the time. He got less sleep than he let on, and his shoulder pain had taken longer to lessen than he'd pretended it did. Finally getting back to living alone and being able to moan and groan with the knowledge that nobody would hear was relieving.

Work, however, was stressful. SVU wasn't the only source of cases for him. He worked for the state, and now more than ever, he was reminded of that. The moment he returned, the floodgates were released on him and case after case was processed and tried in court. His escalating insomnia only worsened matters, and he actually showed up one morning to work slightly intoxicated and got himself taken out of the good graces of a few very important people. He found himself once again contemplating quitting his job, but he knew that he loved being an ADA. While it was stressful as hell—probably more stressful than most other jobs in the world, aside from that of the SVU detectives—it was incredibly satisfying when he won. Victories built him up and helped him to run on an adrenaline which caused his case-closing abilities to skyrocket. The times when he hit lows were typically when he lost one case after another, and that adrenaline was not replenished, and he just felt drained and frankly, like a failure. Losing cases and therefore losing his confidence caused the loss of more cases, leaving him in a cyclical sort of hell. His wavering emotions were something he definitely noticed; he was either confident and cocky or frustrated and angry.

It had been over a month since he'd worked a case with SVU, and as immoral as it was, he was just _waiting_ for a sex crime. He hadn't seen his favorite group of people in awhile, nor had he seen his favorite person, singular, in awhile. Olivia had checked on him a few times when he first returned to work, but he'd assured her that he was doing fine, and gradually those check ups had seized.

So when Carisi called Barba, he answered within a split second, his nervous eagerness already welling up in his chest. He wasn't necessarily _excited_ , per se; Barba didn't get excited about much. But he was looking forward to it. This was the closest anyone would see him come to excited. He dwelled on this fact, realizing that he really did have some serious attraction issues with the leading SVU detective if the most excited he could get was over a new sex crime. When Carisi then proceeded not to inform him that there was a new case, but rather that they were going out for drinks and would like him to join, his excitement intensified. It was a hell of a God-send that he would get to see her and it wasn't even at the expense of someone else's victimization.

Crushed couldn't even begin to describe what he felt when he arrived at the bar and she wasn't there. He felt his heart plummet into his stomach as he took a seat next to Carisi, Rollins, and Fin. He hadn't meant for it to, but his disappointment must have registered on his face.

"You don't look excited to see us, Counselor," Rollins said, her eyebrows raised a bit.

He forced a smile. "Just a little tired. But glad to be here," he lied. "I needed a break."

They all stared at him, and they knew what would come out of his mouth before he spoke.

"Where's Liv?" he asked.

"A date," Fin said.

"She thinks she has a secret. Told us she was going home to Noah," Carisi said.

"She never seems to grasp that she works with detectives. There are no secrets," Rollins added.

Barba faked a congested cough to make sure there was something other than total fury and sadness to attribute the redness now surrounding his eyes to. He wasn't crying, but he felt his eyes start to burn and a lump form in his throat. He swallowed it, took a sip of water, and feigned a look of indifference. But he knew he was trying too hard. Someone was going to know that his heart had just been ripped out of his chest and put into a blender.

"And what about you guys? Forever alone?" he questioned, attempting once again to play off his dejected mood.

"That just about sums it up," Fin dismissed simply.

Rollins gave a simple look which said, "complicated," and Carisi got a stupid ass smirk on his face that Barba decided against asking about.

After another half hour or so of meaningless conversation, small talk which Barba couldn't focus on and didn't care about, Fin and Carisi both left, leaving only he and Rollins sitting at the table.

"Liv, huh?" she said suddenly.

He stared at her, raising a brow. "What about her?"

Rollins chuckled, looking down with a smile spread across her face. "Come on, Barba. I'm a detective. I know you're pining for her."

Somehow, it was infinitely more terrifying to face his undeniable attraction to the lieutenant out loud. Having someone who worked with her and spent countless hours around both of them approach him and boldly question him about his feelings didn't sit well with him at all; in fact, he felt a little nauseous, partially from the alcohol, as a flush ran through his body.

"For Benson? Please," he responded. It had sounded more convincing in his head. When it tumbled out of his mouth, it was way too fast and way too harsh, _almost as if he were overcompensating_.

Rollins shook her head, grinning widely now. "Oh, my God. It's worse than I thought." She practically laughed.

Barba almost got up and left, but at this point, it was pointless. She had seen right through him and he knew it.

"Look, it's not a pressing matter. Just…leave it alone," he said. That was his way of spewing the teenage-like "please don't tell her I like her" plea in a more adult and professional manner.

Pushing a lock of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, Rollins cocked her head a little and looked at him.

"Barba, you're never afraid to say exactly what you want and exactly what you mean. Why is this any different?" she interrogated.

"I'm not saying that I do…but if, hypothetically, I had any sort of…anything…for Benson, that doesn't mean I would want anything to come of it. Let sleeping dogs lie, Detective. Nothing good can come out of it," he dismissed, standing up, grabbing his coat, and heading out of the bar. He paid his tab on his way out and immediately sucked in a deep breath once outside in the freezing New York December weather. Holding back his feelings just became a whole lot harder.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Ch. 10 is short and there's no direct Barson going on, so I apologize about that. But it's just my way of building it! I hope y'all enjoy. Sorry about the infrequent updates. I've written a bit more lately, and this story is slowly coming to an end with what I haven't yet published.**

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"Mamí, we have already talked about this. Can't we have lunch without you telling me to quit my job?" Barba said, sighing out the words.

"Do you have any idea what this has put me through? I lay awake every night thinking about the next time this happens…this is going to happen again," she said.

"We aren't going to talk about this anymore. I like my job and SVU," he said, decidedly not adding that if he were to die, his ghost would not regret putting himself in the line of fire again to do his job.

"You aren't the police, Rafi," she said. "You didn't sign up to get shot at. I didn't _let_ you sign up to get shot at."

"This has never happened to me before. I've been in the court room for years. There was a terrorist attack at a mall last year, does that mean I can't go to malls? Things happen. I feel much better by the way, thanks for asking," he said, subconsciously placing a hand on his formerly injured shoulder.

"I'm sorry. How have you been?" she asked, finally deciding to let it go.

He nearly breathed a sigh of relief, so glad to not talk about quitting his job anymore. "I'm…fine," he said. He was fine. Just heartbroken and frustrated.

"That wasn't very convincing," she said, running a hand through her voluminous hair.

"There's somebody that I care about," he started, speaking timidly. He wasn't sure what else to say, but his mom somehow understood. He was annoyed at himself for seriously talking about this with his mother, of all people. But the reason he found himself doing so was because he had to vent about everything—especially this—and the person he usually vented to was now the subject of his issue.

"Why haven't I met her yet?" Lucia fired.

Barba rubbed his temple. _You have,_ he thought, but did not say. "We aren't…"

Her chin lifted higher and realization crossed her face. "Oh. I understand. And why not?"

"I don't know if I want that," he said. Nothing made him feel a greater connection with his mother than when they had conversations about very specific things, but were so vague that no outsider would even understand what they were talking about. It was like she could read his mind, and he could read hers.

"Those are words I never thought I'd hear you say," Lucia responded, her eyes widening just slightly.

He always knew what he wanted; she was right. But that was the power of Olivia Benson over him. He questioned himself, he doubted himself, felt that he would get rejected, which was a terrifying thought. Of course he would get rejected. She was dating.

"So what?" Lucia said.

Barba was snapped away from his thoughts. Apparently he'd said the "she's dating" part out loud.

"So, she's not interested. Generally when you're interested in someone, you don't date someone else," Barba said, a little more bitter emotion leaking into his voice than he intended.

"Maybe it's because she doesn't know you're interested. I don't understand why you don't just tell her."

"Like I said, I don't even know if I want anything from her. It's not that simple," he said.

"And what reason do you have for not wanting anything with her?" Lucia posed, a frustrated edge to her voice.

"It would be unprofessional," he said.

A tiny grin played out on her lips. "So it's somebody you work with…"

Barba immediately regretted his words. "Uh, loosely," he stuttered, covering his tracks. "Just an acquaintance, but it's enough to look bad."

"Rafael, screw that. Do you not think she's worth it?" she said.

"What—of course I do," he sighed. "But-"

"But nothing. Not pursuing her is saying that she's not worth damaging your rep. If that's the case, you do have no business messing with the poor girl."

Lucia's words were always a mixture of modern slang as well as sayings from her own time. She was truly the "cool mom." He nearly chuckled despite the seriousness of the conversation. 'The poor girl.' His mother would have never referred to her as that if she'd known that it was Olivia.

As if reading his mind, Lucia suddenly changed the subject. "How's Detective Benson? I still haven't been able to properly thank her for everything," she said.

Barba sucked in a breath. "I'm not sure if there is a way to properly thank someone for what she did."

"If you ever change your mind about this 'acquaintance,' that woman better be next on the list. I'll buy the wedding dress myself," she declared.

He physically chuckled this time, unable to ignore the irony and total cluelessness of his mother.

"Sure thing, Mamí."


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: starting after Townhouse Incident.**

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He knew he had to give her time. He knew she must be processing right now, and that she'd been through something difficult. He knew that he needed to let her have a while to be upset, to recover. But he just wanted to be with her as soon as possible. He just wanted to see her face and remember that she was completely fine and he would see her countless more times. He didn't want to be thinking of that van anymore, thinking about how hopeless he was sitting there as the woman he was in love with was being held hostage and being beaten and forced to hear a teenager get raped. He wished he could forget it all, but the feeling of panic remained broiling within him and he feared that it would remain there until he saw her, until he talked to her.

So he watched the clock.

* * *

While still shaken, Olivia felt much better after laying Noah down in bed and consuming a glass of wine. The events of the day were hard. Her own physical abuse was something which she barely even considered, a thought which hardly crossed her mind. It was nothing. The only thing that bothered her was the constant replay in her head of a teenage girl getting raped just one room over as she sat, a detective who was supposed to stop these kinds of things, and did absolutely nothing. She knew she couldn't have done anything—for once, guilt was something with which she was not overridden. But it was still a terrifying and sickening thought and it would still haunt her, she knew, for as long as any other traumatic experience had haunted her. Not much was difficult now, after everything that had happened with Lewis. But when it came to someone else being at the end of the abuse, everything was much harder. She hadn't just dismissed the rape she'd listened to as a bad part of a day. It seemed like everyone had forgotten or was refusing to acknowledge with significance that the rape had occurred. Everyone was seemingly celebratory that everyone had gotten out alive. But there was nothing to celebrate. The father of the household had been injured to a near-fatal degree, and a teenage girl had been raped. Nobody got out unscathed. It had been traumatizing for everyone involved. It was no minor incident and it was nothing she would forget any time soon.

But the knock on her door was more than welcome, and certainly helped.

"Barba?" she said, surprised to see him there. She didn't know who she'd expected, but not him. She hadn't seen him in a month; he acted as if he hardly cared about her and he likely didn't know what had happened. He looked like shit, his hair tousled, shirt halfway unbuttoned although not revealing much, and his eyes were puffy—not indicative of crying, but more of exhaustion.

He gave her a half smile. It would have been the same one he usually gave her if it didn't show a hint of some sadness or frustration or fear underneath. "Liv. I wanted to come check on you."

Hm. Apparently he did know about the day's events. Olivia opened her door wider, encouraging him to come inside. "I'm fine, Barba. Thank you though."

They both remained standing, him doing so because he felt too much adrenaline to be seated and her because she felt that it would be awkward if she were seated while he wasn't. His half smile faded off his face and he gave her a more grave look.

"I realized something today," he said. He stared at her sheepishly, clearly unsure of or nervous about whatever he was about to say.

Olivia stared at him intently, and some force told her that he was about to say something important. She felt it before the words spilled out of his mouth.

"I cannot fucking breathe when I think about things like losing you to some piece of shit criminal," he said, his words thick with emotion. His forehead cast shadows over his eyes, but in the small parts that were visible, Olivia could see a puppy-dog sadness about them.

She didn't know what to say and she wasn't sure where this was going, even though she knew where she hoped it was going, so she decided not to say anything until he was completely finished. She did, however, step closer to him to read him better. He made eye contact for a moment, his eyes flitting back and forth synchronously with hers, but they dropped back down as he spoke again, finding it difficult to find the courage to look her in the eyes.

"You know that I care, of course you do," he said dubiously, his tone indicating that he obviously wasn't done. "But…" his voice trailed off.

Seeing that he was having difficulty, Olivia stepped closer again and put her hand over his forearm. "But?"

Not able to say anything more, Barba looked up finally, meeting her eyes again. He still had that child-like fear in them, that total lack of confidence as well as sadness.

"I've never been able to not talk before," he said, giving a tiny, bitter chuckle and looking down quickly, and then back up at her before his face was yet again overcome with frustration. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he flipped his hand around and squeezed hers which had been resting on it, and then used it to pull her forward. One of his arms came up from his side and snaked around her back. Realization flashed through Olivia's eyes as she finally understood with certainty what was happening, and Barba couldn't tell if the realization was positive or negative for her. In fear of finding out that it was negative, he lunged forward and met her lips with his before he could give himself enough time to back out. He had to do this. He had to make sure she knew all the way, no confusion. So he kissed her, firmly but slowly, as he was savoring her, not rushing it. This might be the only time he got to do this.

When Barba broke the kiss, remaining only centimeters from her mouth, Olivia at first pulled back. But she saw his face, his desperate and already-rejected face, and immediately she pushed her lips back to his in an act of passionate guilt she felt for making him think for even a moment that she was not absolutely in love with him. He kissed her with a tenderness unparalleled by any man she'd ever been with. She pulled back for air only for tiny moments in between the heated passion. One of her hands rested on his neck while the other was wrapped around his back, and one of his hands was tangled in her hair, using this control to tilt her head back and kiss her a few times on the jaw, neck, and cheek. She was overcome with elation within moments as she felt so intensely satisfied that she nearly whimpered, but thankfully didn't, as he surely would have teased her for that later on. She realized with great certainty that this desire of hers was finally reaching satisfaction and she was with somebody she desperately needed to be with—she hadn't realized how desperately she had needed him before now.

Barba damn near couldn't control himself as all of his desire released on her within the kiss. Every time he'd wanted to do this with her was in the back of his mind as he enjoyed her to the greatest extent. He was sure she felt the pent-up sexual tension as well as emotional love he felt for her all at once as he was passionate and intense but nevertheless incredibly tender. When they finally broke apart for good, after a moment of pure shock, a tiny smile formed on Olivia's face before she spoke.

"Sometimes not talking is best."

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 **AN: I desperately hope this was satisfying for you guys and was reasonably in-character! It was very hard for me to picture and my writer's block lately has been horrible, so I really had to force myself to write this chapter, it didn't flow naturally at all. But I needed to make Barson happen finally! I hope it was still enjoyable, please let me know in the reviews! I really want to know if I'm capable of writing quality stuff even when I'm not feeling the vibe. Thanks! xoxo**


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